


Snow Came

by join_thejourney



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arya Stark is a badass, Canon Divergence - War of The Five Kings, Damsels in Distress, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Girls matter too, Jon Snow Deserves Better, Jon Snow Lives, Jon Snow and Robb Stark are Best Friends, Jon Snow-centric, Jon and Sansa are Cousins, Jon leaves the Nights Watch, Love, Multi, Sansa Stark Deserves Better, Sansa doesn't get left behind in King's Landing, Sansa-centric, Slow Burn, arya doesn’t join the faceless men, gendry blushes whenever he looks at Arya, i don't have to follow GRRMartin's storyline perfectly, life and death, saving Sansa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 09:30:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/join_thejourney/pseuds/join_thejourney
Summary: Many people would say he should've honored his vows to the Night's Watch, but Robb had needed him and the North mattered more than any frozen wall... Father would've understood is the mantra he told himself as he rode to Robb's camp to get justice for their Father and to save Sansa and Arya. Unfortunately, Robb is a King now and Jon realizes that the King cannot put the safety of girls above that of the whole war. Which only leaves Jon, a bastard with little honor, to save the girls he had promised to protect from the evils of the world... no matter what Robb thought."The Woman matters too."-AU in which Jon leaves the Night's Watch to join up with the Northern cause, needing to protect his family and rescue his sisters from the Lannister's clutches, but Robb refuses to save them and its up to Jon to get them back. Soon enough, family secrets and deep rooted desire begin to unravel as Jon manages to save his pretty, distant half-sister, who may not be his sister after all.





	1. The Woman Matters Too

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegirl_APstories](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl_APstories/gifts).

During his short stay at the Wall, Jon had taken his vows seriously and had done what was ordered of him, determined to forget his family and simply protect the Realm, as was his duty. For once in his life, he felt as though he had a place in this wretched world, but then Lord Commander Mormont had summoned him to his chambers and revealed the most terrible news.

_“Lord Stark has been charged with treason. They say he conspired with Robert’s brothers to.... deny the throne to Prince Joffrey.”_

Every thought or petty worry had suddenly flown from his head like a raven and instead he was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread and cold… like the blood in his veins had turned to ice and suddenly, this world which had not made much sense to beginning with to a bastard like him, had lost almost all meaning. Almost, that is.

Lord Commander Mormont had quickly scolded him, reminding him of his duty to the Night’s Watch, but he had merely glanced at the older man with a fierce, wolfish gaze before proclaiming that his sisters were in King’s Landing too; he had never had a strong relationship with Sansa, had gotten on better with Arya, but that mattered little… they were his family, no matter how he had been treated and he refused to turn his back on family.

Perhaps deserting the Wall in the dead of night, with only Samwell Tarly giving him a soft, watery smile of understanding, had not been wise, in fact, he could rightly have his head cut from his shoulders because of it, but Robb needed him and so did his sisters. He had ridden hard, having only the knowledge Samwell had whispered to him in a dark, dank hall as the other men fought loudly around them, and so he rode hard for the South, refusing to stop. Until, that dreadful day when he heard the news.

Lord Eddard Stark had been executed in King’s Landing, branded a traitor, the people of King’s Landing had supposedly cheered as his head fell from his shoulders and Jon had nearly fallen off his horse as he wretched up what little he had in his stomach and felt fiery, hot tears burn as they poured down his cold face. Eddard Stark, his father, the man whom had taught him how to swing a sword, who had loved him not matter his standing and who had protected him from the nastier jabs people had try to make towards him… gone in a matter of seconds, on the orders of a false, mad King. In that moment, hunched over on the dirt road, leaves and twigs digging into his naked hands as vomit dribbled from his mouth and tears from his face, he vowed that he would kill them all… every last person who had a hand in his Father’s death and any who cheered it on. They did not deserve his mercy, for they had not shown kind, honorable Ned Stark any.

\--

With a renewed purpose, he rode harder and faster towards Robb and the rest of the Northern Bannermen who had rallied behind their now Lord’s cause… the North would fight for Ned Stark and for their independence, Robb was no longer a Lord if rumors were to be believed, but rather a King. The King in the North… there had not been one in years, not since one of the ancient Starks had knelt to a Targaryen King and yet now, his brother and closest friend, was the newest King.

Robb was not the only one he thought of though, his mind constantly wandering to Sansa and Arya, the two girls that Father had sworn he and Robb would always have to protect. He didn’t know who he worried over more. Arya, his spunky, fearless baby sister was more boy than girl and whilst he had always admired her fire and desire to fight against the status quo… he did not think her fire would protect her well in King’s Landing. They would call her wild, insolent and wild, insolent girls were often punished… Jon’s heart ached terribly when he thought that someone would lay a hand on fearsome little Arya.

Then, when his thoughts turned to Sansa, his worry increased tenfold. He had never been close with Sansa, but he, just as every Northerner knew, that Lady Sansa Stark was a refined, gentle, beauty… Father had stressed that they must not push Sansa in mud like they did with Arya and they could not let boys slink around her. Sansa was meant to be treated like a delicate doll, you could not be rough or gruff when it came to sweet, gentle Sansa… the girl who sighed dreamily over fairytales and hummed every love song under her breath as she stitched or twirled in a new, fine gown. The people in King’s Landing and the Lannister’s would see the good, gentleness that Sansa practically radiated and they would exploit it. Abuse it. That day was the first it really hit him why Father had always been so insistent that they protect Sansa, not only because she was gentle, but because people would gladly abuse a somewhat naïve girl.

His racing thoughts only made him push himself and his poor horse faster, harder… he needed to see Robb and they would figure out how to get the girls back. They just had to.

\--

Lady Stark had been _displeased _the moment her blue eyes caught his figure and he wished desperately to shrink beneath her hard, cold gaze, but he forced himself to stare at her and walk past with his head held high as he stalked towards Robb. King Robb. His brother and friend, his closest friend and protector. They had only stared at one another for a moment before they threw their arms around the other, fur and tears nearly choking the boys… men… as they roughly patted one another on the back and silently grieved together.

Jon had not been able to say more than a few words before King Robb had quickly pardoned him, making it clear for his privy council and his mother that this decision was not up for question or debate. The other Lords that crowded around the small wooden table simple conceded, seemingly not caring anymore about bastards since they had a war to fight. Lady Stark had glowered at him and if they had been in the room alone, she may have wrapped her cool hands around his neck till he was dead and finally gone from her life. But, Lady Stark kept quiet and reluctantly nodded her agreement before Robb jumped into telling him all that had transpired before he arrived and the battle plans they had decided so far, but he felt confusion settle deep in his bones when the meeting had come to an end and not a soul had mentioned Arya or Sansa.

He kept quiet until it was just himself, Robb and Lady Stark left in the makeshift tent before he spoke his concerns.

“Robb, what of Arya and Sansa?” The once easy nature between the brothers had turned cold at the mention of the girls names and queerly enough, Lady Stark seemed to look at him with a renewed sense of wonder whilst Robb simply sat and busied himself with a forgotten stack of parchment.

“When the time is right, we shall make plans on the best ways to retrieve Sansa and Arya, but until then… we must focus on continuing to march South. We cannot do anything for them this far North.”

Jon had reluctantly nodded, trying to think rationally and act as if he understood Robb’s decision, but in truth… he did not.

\--

Soon, days turned to weeks and weeks to months until all Jon could think of was battle, food and sleep. He didn’t think of Sansa or Arya till his head had hit his pillow and then he would drift off to sleep with heavy thoughts of them in his mind… he would dream of them nearly every night and in the mornings he promised himself he would ask Robb about it again, but then a battle would occur or terrible news would be received on the wings of ravens and Jon would once again be sidetracked.

Lady Stark had ridden out some time ago, trying to reason with Lord-King Renly Baratheon and they had thought mayhaps they could’ve come to some reluctant agreement, they certainly could use Renly and his Tyrell wife’s help, but then the raven had arrived. King Renly Baratheon was dead. A few simple words had thrown a wrench in many well laid plans and suddenly, the Northern forces were back to where they had started.

Then more bad news poured in and Jon felt suffocated by it all, there had been little good news for the North and Jon had grown weary of it all… but even being swallowed by every terrible thing, his thoughts still turned South and he decided then to steel his jaw and confront Robb about the girls. They needed to save their family and having the girls back in the North would not only keep them safe, but may even help lift the morale of the men. Who didn’t love a story about saving the damsels in distress… and men would have a renewed sense to rally behind Robb, with the knowledge that late Lord Ned Starks children were there and present to fight for.

\--

But Jon never had the chance to discuss anything with Robb because a wave of horror crashed down around them, Theon Greyjoy had betrayed them and had taken Winterfell and young Bran and Rickon along with him. Not only were the girls in danger, but now his baby brothers were held captive by a man they had grown up with and had considered a brother. Little good came after the news reached them, Lady Stark seemed to retreat farther into herself and he watched as dark shadows seemed permanently bruised underneath her eyes.

But, with all that horror, they had caught a golden goose… well, a golden Lion to be exact. Ser Jaime Lannister was a fine catch and the North had relished having the Lion in their clutches. Everyone knew, even with the Kingslayers knightly vows, he was the favored son to Lord Tywin Lannister and now, the Great Lion could not raise a hand to them less he wanted something to happen to his favorite son. But, it occurred to Jon in the same breath that the Great Lion had the girls and they had Ser Jaime, and they were now seemingly at a stalemate.

\--

“Mayhaps we should make a trade. Ser Jaime in exchange for the girls.” The plan had made sense in his mind, neither party of the war could fight and they had been at a stalemate for some time, only Stannis Baratheon and the Greyjoys were able to fight, neither having anything precious being held over their heads. He was only met with a glare from his King and Jon felt confused and anger.

“My men would laugh at me, at the mere suggestion of exchange the Kingslayer, perhaps one of the most valuable hostages, for _girls._”

“The woman is important too.” They were not his words, but those of fierce, proud Arya… she had said them to him what seems like a lifetime ago and he realizes that he has begun to forget the way she sounded and he cannot remember Sansa’s quiet, pretty voice as she sung or hummed throughout Winterfell. The thought sickens him.

“I love Sansa and Arya as much as you, as much as mother… but I cannot fight for girls. My men won’t have it.”

“But they would raise arms for Bran and Rickon?” He hated comparing his siblings, they were all equally important in his eyes, no matter what their sex was.

“Yes. Bran and Rickon are my heirs until I have a child of my own body with some future wife. I can convince the men to fight for them easily, but I cannot do a thing for the girls… my hands are tied.”

During their exchange, Lady Stark had sat quietly, hands ringing together as desperate hope shone in her eyes along with tears, tears of a mother and tears of a women tired, who had lost too much in such a short period of time. Sansa and Arya had been lost to them coming on two years and with each passing day, their absence had grown painfully, like a festering wound.

“Father would be _disappointed _to hear you speak of them in that way… as if their lives have no meaning, no importance. He would’ve damned his bannermen and told them to raise their arms for them or face punishment, just as he had done for his sister, Lady Lyanna. We do _not _forget family! The pack survives, but the lone wolf dies.” If it had been any other time or any other subject, Lady Stark would’ve sneered and berated him fiercely for speaking to Robb in this way… angry, volatile, dismissive, but today she looks at him with… _pride_ and something akin to gratitude.

\--

Robb had demanded he leave his tent that night and nearly a moon had passed since their fight and they had not spoken a word to one another… with each passing day, Lady Stark seemingly grows more desperate for her daughters as no news can be found about Bran and Rickon, seemingly still had captive in their ancestral home by that bastard Squid. Jon himself grows restless as well, his conscious heavy with guilt at his betrayal to his family… and it is with a heavy heart that he makes a decision, finally.

Once again he finds himself running in the dead of night, sneaking past the guards and Northern men as he rides South. Alone. He feels a new sense of determination as he hurries to the gates of King’s Landing, a city he has never seen nor stepped foot in and yet he cares little for the darkness he is entering. Sansa and Arya are worth it, mayhaps not to the Northern men and Robb, but they matter to Jon more than life itself. He would gladly die for his sisters, without a shadow of doubt in his mind and it makes his resolve harden, with each thundering gallop as he nears closer and closer to the poisonous capital.

\--

The Gods had been on his side as he lurked around the Red Keep, supposedly the False King Joffrey had decided he wanted entertainment… a mummers show with actors dressed in queer clothing and masks, to portray some type of old tale and it occurred to him, that none of the Lannister’s had paid any attention to him when they visited Winterfell over two years ago and a brilliant idea came to him. He had easily passed for some background player in the mummers show, donning a loose white tunic and the black riding pants that clung tightly to his legs whilst some lady smeared paints and powders on his face before shoving a weird, beaked mask in his hands and the orders to stand in the back of the scenes.

He had stood on the small, elevated stage with the mask secured tightly to the back of his head and his grey eyes free to scan the noble crowd that gathered around the stage, eager for entertainment that did not include a war or anything bloody. It had taken only a moment on the stage to catch Sansa, she was hard to miss with her familiar red hair and tall, willowy frame… she had grown from a slip of a girl of thirteen, into seemingly a woman now, she had been beautiful in their youth, but now… she was stunning, to the point it took your breath away. But gone were any smiles or easy, open looks upon her pretty, pale face and instead she seemed like the dead walking, dressed in a fine silken gown and tumbling curls and the look as if she would burst into tears at a moment’s notice.

Whilst Sansa had been easy to spot, he could not see Arya anywhere in the crowd and his stomach tightened painfully as he tried to rationalize why she wouldn’t be in attendance. All his reasoning’s fell short.

Then, suddenly, one of the true actors hissed in his ear to take the flower he had been told to hold in his hand and to give it to a lady in the crowd… perhaps he should’ve given it to one of the plain girls who sat closest to the stage, but his legs seemed to move before he could think and he had suddenly jumped off the raised platform and was walking until he stood before Sansa. Her blue eyes wide in shock and her cheeks flushed with the tiniest hint of a blush, a quivering hand slowly reaching out to take the rose he offered to her. He bowed low, as he had been taught was proper and respectful before slowly inching away, his grey eyes boring into her blue… willing her to see him for who he truly was.

The play had ended after that and they had all been ushered off the stage and into the small room they’d been told to use for changes, but they’d only been in there a moment before the door opened again and he felt his breath catch as he watched Sansa slowly, hesitantly walk farther into the room until she stood before him. Her whole body shook in terror as she clutched the flower in one hand and in the other, a red and golden velvet pouch that jingled with coins.

“Our gracious King has decided to bestow you a gift, for choosing wisely.” Her words are soft, clipped and obviously parroted from the King’s own lips and she holds out the velvet bag with shaking hands, her eyes willing him to take it so she may flee back to wherever they keep her tightly guarded and watched.

It takes him but a moment to untie the mask and tight it off his face and he thinks she may collapse as she drinks in his face, her blue eyes filling with tears and her mouth falling open with astonishment and a silent whimper. Two years apart and they have both changed in many ways, but his eyes are still Stark grey and she is still Sansa, with radiating beauty and warm, blue eyes.

\--

For the first time in two years, both Jon and Sansa feel as though they can breathe easy… he had come to save her, he had not forgotten… no matter how much she had thought they’d forsaken her and decided to leave her here in this lonely, painful place. For a moment, they were both happy.


	2. A Growing Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon spirits Sansa out of King's Landing under the guise of a squire and while on the run, they encounter a very odd party... one that brings future of an alliance and a creeping, untrustworthy Bird.

Jon hadn’t thought he could get into King’s Landing so easily, but reaching Sansa had been even easier. He had quickly dressed in plain garb after scrubbing his face free of the paints and powders, making sure to keep his hair free of the leather cord that often held back his dark, curling hair and allowed it to shield his face from any onlookers as he carefully moved through the Keep. The Red Keep was vast and the halls seemed to blend into one another, unlike Winterfell, where he had grown up and learned every stone and corner, but luckily a quirked smile and shy voice to a passing washing maid worked wonders.

“Excuse me miss, do you know where I could find Lady Sansa Stark’s rooms?” The maid had a plain look about her, thick around the waist and bust as she clutched sheets loosely in her arms and her cheeks had blushed hotly upon looking at his face. It seems the saying was right, bastards had a certain look about them that made them hard to resist.

“Why ye be askin’?” She did not have the accent of those he had passed whilst perusing the Red Keep and he could only guess she came from the peasant villages outside of the gaudy, golden gates that separated the nobility from the poor.

“Lord Tyrion asked me to deliver a message… I am his newest squire.” He was three years too old to be a true squire, but Jon hoped the woman wouldn’t ask any more questions and he hoped no one went searching for Tyrion Lannister in the time it took him to get to Sansa. The dwarf Lannister had been the first person he had thought to reside in the Red Keep, the only one where people wouldn’t ask many questions.

“The girl’s rooms are in Maegor’s Holdfast, along with most of the family.”

The maid had scurried off quickly, not giving him a moment to thank her, but it was probably for the best and soon enough, he was on his way towards the rooms, with the occasional help of a pointed finger or vague directions. Finally, after what seemed a lifetime of walking around the endless Keep, he had finally arrived in the vacant hallway of Sansa’s room, surprisingly not a single guard was posted outside the door and so, he made quick work on rapping at the wooden door.

The door was opened a fraction and he saw her familiar red hair and her cautious blue eyes which widened almost comically as she looked up at his face before swinging the door open fully and waving him inside frantically; he hurried in and watched as she nearly slammed the door shut, holding the handle for a moment and he heard her take a deep, shaky breath before she turned and looked him over. He stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over his feet as she launched her small frame into his own, her arms tightly circling him as she silently sobbed, her body shaking violently and all Jon could do was wrap his steadier, stronger arms around her and allow her this moment.

When she stepped back, she searched his eyes, as if trying to see if he really stood before her and a watery smile slowly pulled the corners of her full lips and he couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“How are you here? Is Robb with you?” Her voice washed over him like a soothing wave, he had forgotten how delicate her voice was, but he also felt a grimace as he knew he would have to explain the reasoning for Robb’s apparent absence.

“No.. tis just I, Sansa, Robb and your Lady Mother are currently in Riverrun. We have set up a temporary residence there as we await for the War to continue.” Her matching red eyebrows had knitted together at his words and a look a hurt passed over her pretty face, whilst Sansa had always been gentle and somewhat naïve, she’d never been stupid. She’d been bound to understand the true meaning of his careful words.

“Ah… I see.” Then a renewed sense of urgency passed over her as she tightly clutched his hands within his own, her nails almost digging into the rough skin of his hands as a manic look crossed over her once delicate features. “We must leave. At once… if anyone should find you in here, Joffrey would surely skin you alive and me along with you.” She dropped his hands then and hurried to her chests, seemingly throwing a random assortment of things in a small sack.

“Where is Arya… we cannot leave without her.” His words had caused her to suddenly stop and look at him over her shoulder, a look of pain etched into her features… it was not soothing or reassuring to Jon.

“Arya… she isn’t here, I have not seen her since the day of Father’s arrest.” The words were said slowly, carefully as she went back to stuffing her sack full of clothing and trinkets, seemingly not being able to bare the devastation that wracked Jon’s face and body.

He shouldn’t have been so surprised though. The Lannister’s lied, perhaps they were some of the best liars with their false beauty and calculated smiles… he, Robb and Lady Stark should’ve known that something had been amiss; the few whispers they had heard regarding the girls had almost always been about Sansa and there had been little information about Arya’s wellbeing.

\--

Sneaking Sansa out of the Keep was done by putting her in plain, boyish clothing, much to her dismay, and a hood carefully pulled high over her famous hair and face. They clung to the shadows of the Keep and kept to the edges of the stone walls as they hurried to Jon’s awaiting horse which he quickly mounted before pulling Sansa up in front of him, she stilled weighed naught but the weight of a feather and she had sat stiffy in the seat, unused to gripping a horse between her thighs… it was unladylike and Sansa had always been a lady.

He had told her that they would be ridding hard and fast, soon enough her presence in the Red Keep would be noticed and the Lannister’s would not rest till she had been found and recaptured, knowing that once she was out of their clutches.. the North would hold all of the cards as Ser Jaime stayed tied to a wooden pole in the middle of Riverun.

The first night after they had settled and found a quiet, private place to sleep, he watched as Sansa winced and walked on shaky, pained legs and held out a scrap of fabric for her to wipe the few tears that fell down her cheeks as she softly rubbed at the sore muscles. He had built them a fire and given Sansa his own cloak and softly ordered her to lay down and rest, today had been hard, but tomorrow would be worse… they’d have to ride through the edge of the Reach and he had not heard anything about the Tyrell’s allegiance since the death of Renly Baratheon and was not keen to end up in the clutches of possible enemies.

He had been resting his back against a tree, moving every so often as the harsh wood dug into his back and tried to keep his bleary eyes focused on the crackling fire and his ears quirked for any slight sound from the wooden area surrounding them.

“_Jon.”_ Her voice was a whisper, so soft, that had a gust of wind blown in that moment, it would’ve carried the word away with it. Nonetheless, he heard it and turned his gaze to Sansa, she lay on her side in her boyish clothes with her cloak wrapped tightly around her slight frame and found she looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

“_Thank you for saving me… for coming after me.” _He felt his lip quirk up as he merely shook his head and answered back.

“You needs not thank me… you’re family Sansa, I could not have lived with myself if something had happened to you in the wretched place.” A single tear fell from her eye and she quickly wiped it away with a cloak covered fist before closing her eyes and sighing softly.

“_But I do… I shall forever be in your debt.”_

“You owe me no debt… none at all.” And he watched over her as she slept, fitfully and with a sad furrowed brow and he knew that he had been too late. Something terrible had already happened to his sweet, gentle sister.

\--

When they had awoken the next morning, neither spoke of the short conversation they’d had and instead Jon urged Sansa to drink water and scarf down the hard jerky he had brought along with him before reluctantly telling her that they must be on their way. He had once again climbed onto the horse before pulling her up in front of him and they continued on their journey, his hands tightly gripping the horse’s reigns as Sansa stuck close to his front, one hand holding onto the reigns as well and the other keeping her cloak wrapped around her tightly.

He had recognized the lush, green lands of the Reach instantly and wanted to hurry from them before they came across anyone and for a time, he thought they had succeeded and he had happily set up camp that night with the thought of repeating last night over. Keeping Sansa warm and allowing her to sleep peacefully as he watched over her carefully, listening for any signs of an approaching person.

The sun had set long ago and Sansa had fallen asleep once again, fitful and tossing every so often, but Jon’s head had snapped up suddenly upon hearing the familiar sound of horse hooves and the loud sound of rolling carriage wheels. He had quickly stood and unsheathed his sword as he awaited the impending arrival of whomever was approaching, his grip on the pommel of his sword tight as he moved to quickly rouse Sansa and demanded her to hide in the thick forest that surrounded them and told her to not move nor make a sound, no matter what should occur and he felt his heart drop at her frightened face as she hurried off to hide behind the multiple trees surrounding them.

He had waited with baited breath and watched as two men atop horses came riding into their small, makeshift camp and he felt his nose twitch in anger as the two seemed to look around jovially and proudly caught his eye… neither seemingly paying any attention to the great sword clasped tightly in his hand. Both men were young and dressed in fine velvet tunic, the dying fire showing the colors of green and gold and Jon felt his eyebrows tighten as he watched a carriage also ride into view, though no one stepped out.

“Can I help you men?” His voice was brisk, offering no warmth or friendship, hoping to convey his no nonsense nature and he was irked when the two men merely continued to smile as they leapt off their horses.

“Our scout’s saw you riding earlier today, they’d been informed to tell us of anyone riding alone in our lands… what with the War going on. Only, they said you did not ride alone, a hooded figure also accompanied you, but I do not see anyone else?” He didn’t answer the taller man’s question, he seemed older than the other gentleman, but both looked remarkably alike and he tried to remember what minor houses ruled in the Reach.

“I suppose it would be best if we would introduce ourselves, what with you clutching that sword so tightly!” The older of the two stepped closer and Jon only tightened his grip and moved to raise the sword in warning, when the carriage door had suddenly been thrown open and the voice of an older woman echoed throughout the small camp.

“Gods you men are quite useless!” He watched perplexed as an old woman stepped into view, dressed in fine velvet that matched the two men and her face seemed to be pulled into a scowl as she glared at the two men as she pushed past them, both with looks of guilt across there once jovial faces.

“Last we heard Robb Stark was still in Riverun, attempting to play King, which means you must the bastard. We had heard rumors that Lady Sansa had been taken by her brother, but I refused to believe them, having forgot all about you… that was until _my_ scouts saw you hurrying through our lands as if Stranger was on your heels.” He could only blink at the lady, who stood much shorter than he and he felt like a little boy again, being scolded by Lady Stark for doing something stupid. He had moved to speak, but the older woman had only thrown her hand up, silencing him.

“I assume Lady Sansa is somewhere around here… it would appear you Starks aren’t as useless as I had once thought. For a time I thought we would have aligned ourselves with the Lannister’s, but I’m beginning to think you lot are the better choice… Robb Stark is said to be a strong King, with not an ounce of madness in his veins… yes, I think that would better suit my granddaughter.”

“Who are you exactly?” She had only scoffed at him and eyed his sword with distain, only then did he realize he had still be holding it tightly and threateningly in his grasp and so he lowered his sword and tried to not look so abashed under her cool, critical gaze.

“Lady Olenna Tyrell and these two men are my quite _useless _grandson’s, Ser Garlan and Ser Loras… my granddaughter, Lady Margaery and my oaf of a son, Mace, are still in the carriage. I have come to find you, hoping that the Starks and Tyrell’s could form an alliance… your King marries my granddaughter, in exchange we shall help your war effort. We will supply men, food, and weaponry; whatever you need… so _long _as the marriage takes place.”

“I cannot barter any terms for the King in the North, I am but one man on his privy council.”

“Well then, we shall provide you and Lady Sansa safe passage from here to Riverrun and once we arrive, you shall campion our cause… help your King see that our help is much needed.”

\--

Jon had wanted to turn the Tyrell party away, but he had known that it was best for Sansa to have a party of soldiers to protect her than just himself and he was blind to the fact that the Northern cause was slowing down; they were winning battles, but losing the War.

Sansa had been less inclined to their new traveling members than he, but he kept a close eye on her and noticed that she had begun to _slowly_ open up to Lady Olenna’s granddaughter, Lady Margaery Tyrell, who would very well be there Queen in a matter of weeks. Lady Margaery was very pretty with dark curly hair and just as dark eyes, she was quite short when she stood beside Sansa, but Jon always remembered that Sansa was very tall for a girl her age.. for any girl really. Lady Margaery was courteous and kind from the few times he’d been in her company, but she seemed to make Sansa smile every once and awhile and he was pleased that Sansa had a lady near her own age to keep her company on their voyage North… he was under the impression that Lady Margaery was of age with himself and Robb, nineteen, in comparison to Sansa’s fifteen.

But even from his careful watch, always close yet far from the girls, one could mistake Sansa being the older of the two… not only due to her superior height, but Sansa’s eyes carried a maturity that Lady Margaery’s did not, one that could only be born out seeing the worst the world had to offer. Jon had not worked up the courage to ask Sansa about her time in the hands of the Lannister’s and Sansa had not offered up any more information than her soft, cryptic words on their first night together.

There was a rather annoying campion in their party though… Lord Petyr Baelish or ‘Littlefinger’ depending on which you preferred. He had arrived the second day the Tyrell party had been with Sansa and he, almost immediately he did not like the man. He was a short man, closer in height to Ser Loras than himself or Ser Garlan and he dressed in an up-jump fashion… to fine and intricate for a man of old money and a minty scent seemed to cling to the man, wafting in the air that surrounded them. He was often found at Lady Olenna’s side and it had only taken Jon a few moments to see that the Tyrell’s had somehow aligned themselves with this man, he had overheard Lord Mace Tyrell say he was King Joffrey’s Master of Coin, but he had been assured the man was on their side… supposedly Littlefinger had grown up alongside Lady Stark and had decided to fight for her cause.

The man never done anything to him, in fact, Littlefinger and he had not spoken more than a word or two of greeting upon first meeting and the man had been… pleasant enough, but Jon did not like that when he smiled, which Littlefinger did often, his smile never reached his eyes. Jon believed you couldn’t trust a man like that, he remembered Old Nan once saying.

_“The eyes are the window to our souls… you can always tell a person by their eyes.”_

\--

If Jon had not particularly liked Littlefinger during the beginning of their journey, he certainly _hated _him now. He had been watching Littlefinger more closely as they drew nearer to Riverun and he noticed that while the man was almost exclusively in the company of Lady Olenna, his eyes often followed Sansa. If his sister noticed, she did not say a thing or give away any feelings of discomfort, one day the older man had approached her and offered her his condolences for their Father, and lamented on the fact that he and Lady Stark had been the best of friends in their youth, they had grown up together. Sansa seemed to enjoy his stories, seemingly happy to learn more about her Lady Mother when she had been young and with each passing day, Littlefinger could be found just as often in Sansa’s company, as he was in Lady Olenna’s.

The only thing that stopped Jon from slicing the man in two, from the way his eyes lingered longingly on Sansa’s young frame or how his eyes sparkled in a disgusting manner whenever he eyed her lips, Littlefinger had never once lain a hand on her and so, Jon forced himself not to act and to try and let it pass… he would merely make sure that he could never be in a room alone with Sansa. A soft voice often whispered in his mind.

_ Sansa looked so much like Lady Stark… certainly Littlefinger’s interest was not so innocent_.

And then, one night, Jon had walked down to a small river near their campsite and washed, desperately wanting to get the stench of horse, sweat and dirt off his person and he had emerged from the water, fresh and feeling more like himself. He had dried off and quickly dressed in clean clothing, a simple white tunic and sturdy riding pants with soft, leather boots on his feet and his sword sitting lazily at his hip. He had been heading towards his own tent, small and right beside Sansa’s own, it was bigger than Jon’s, but not as big as Lady Margaery’s, when he caught sight of a figure exiting Sansa’s tent and Jon felt his blood run cold as he took in Littlefinger’s slight frame.

Jon had dropped his dirty clothing on the cold, dirt ground and felt a snarl rip through his chest as he stalked after Littlefinger’s slow, retreating form and Jon swore he saw red as he grabbed the man by the scruff of his neck and threw him into the rough bark of a nearby tree, the man’s surprised yelp silenced by Jon pressing his forearm into the man’s fragile windpipe and he felt pleasure upon seeing the man’s laughing grey-green, catlike eyes widen in fright. Both men shook, Littlefinger in fear and Jon in blinding anger.

“I have held my tongue because the Tyrell’s seem to enjoy your company, but if you _ever _go near Lady Sansa again… I will gladly slit your throat where you stand. You do not _look _at her, do not _speak_, or even _dream _of going near her again. Understood?” Jon had expected the man to simply nod in fear and scurry off like the rat he was, but suddenly the man smiled… knowingly.

“Quite a s_how _of valor… for a _sister_.” The man’s eyes twinkled with something, knowledge that Jon was not privy too and it made him press his forearm much tighter into the man’s throat till he made choking sounds.

After a moment he allowed the man the breathe again and he shoved the man far from him and the tree he had held him against, Littlefinger rubbing at his sore throat before straightening his robes and turning to leave, but not before turning and once again, smirking at him.

“This scene quite reminds me of Catelyn and Brandon… quite odd, considering Brandon was protecting his _betrothed, _not his sister.”

Jon narrowed his eyes at the man’s retreating form before he turned back and stalked towards Sansa’s tent, throwing back to entrance flap without knocking on the wooden poles holding it together as he usually did. Sansa jumped in her seat, leaning over a makeshift desk with a book laid out before her and she gazed at him with furrowed brows and seemed to look over his appearance. It was then he remembered he was not dressed in his normal attire and his white tunic was untied and see through in her candle light. Nonetheless, Sansa offered him a shy smile, or at least the muted Sansa offered everyone.

“Jon, do you need me to wash your old clothes?” It was then he remembered he had dropped them outside and he shook his head, he was quite forgetful in his anger.

“Aye, if you do not mind… but I came to ask, why was Littlefinger in your tent? He did not… touch or say anything to you, did he?” She closed her book and moved to stand, he was only a few inches shorter than her and so they were able to almost look into one another’s eyes and she could only raise a red eyebrow.

“No… Lord Baelish was merely dropping off a book. I had told him offhandedly one day that I had grown fairly bored and he offered me something from his collection, he delivered it and left not a moment later. You know I do not… _like _being touched, by anyone other than yourself and sometimes Lady Margaery…. I fear I shall never enjoy anyone’s touch other than family.”

Jon felt his cheeks heat for some unknown reason and he found himself clearing his throat and stepping back from Sansa, he quickly excused himself, saying he needed to grab his clothes for her and that he would be back in a moment. He could feel her eyes on him as he hurried from her tent and to where he had left his clothing, only to see a small figure already bending down to pick them up off the cold, dirt ground.

He bowed for a moment upon seeing it was Lady Margaery, she offered him a kind smile of her own as she moved to hand him his clothing, she herself was dressed in a warm cloak of her house colors and her hair was pulled back in a rather plain style, the slight breeze causing hairs to blow back from her face. He offered a ‘thanks’ and moved to go deliver the clothing to Sansa, when her voice called out too him.

“I saw the disagreement you had with Lord Baelish.” Her voice was different, accented in what must be Lady Margaery well, beyond the fact that seemed kind enough to Sansa and appeared to love her family dearly.

“Yes… well, I apologize for you having to witness that, my Lady, it was not for a ladies eyes.” Lady Margaery scoffed and Jon felt his eyes widen in surprise, for scoffing was _very _unladylike.

“I have grown up with all brothers, I’ve seen my fair share of fights and spats, do not worry yourself over that. Tis interesting though, my brothers have often stood up for me, my honor, but I’ve never seen that level of rage in any of them, in regards to myself. Though, Garlan once almost killed a man for saying something lewd to Lady Leonette… curious. Well, goodnight, Jon Snow.” Her words were curious and yet kind, they did not seem to hold judgement or accusation, but he watches as she walks back towards her tent and he feels confused and a small amount of dread… Ser Garlan had mentioned Lady Leonette in passing, his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a serious and heartfelt thank you to everyone who left love and support on this story, it means a lot and i'm so happy that you guys appreciate it so much! i hope you also enjoy this chapter and don't forget to show it some love as well, i hope you like the surprise introduction of the tyrell family, whose ambitions will be revealed soon! don't forget to enjoy the slow burn! also, i want to let you guys know that while the story is primarily in jon's POV, that doesn't mean you won't get to see into the heads of future characters... just keep that mind!

**Author's Note:**

> A story I couldn't stop thinking about and so I decided to write it! It is a multi-chapter fic, but its written in a not so standard format since I wanted to get into our characters heads without excess fluff and I have every intention of future chapters being longer. Sansa and Jon both deserved better than the fates handed to them and so... I've decided to write the stories i believe they deserve! Major thanks to thegirl_APstories for giving me the story idea and for supporting me/encouraging me to write this fanfic. Let me know what you think by leaving kudos, bookmarks and comments. You guys are awesome!
> 
> writing tumblr for character reference and more: join-thejourney


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